


Let Nothing You Dismay

by Constance



Category: Buffy the Vampire Slayer
Genre: Banter, F/M, Humor
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-02-01
Updated: 2011-02-01
Packaged: 2017-10-15 06:59:00
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 21,035
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/158250
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Constance/pseuds/Constance
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Set over Christmas in Season 5. The Initiative makes an unwelcome return.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Let Nothing You Dismay

****

Chapter One

Three days before Christmas, the nights as long as they ever got in California, and still it was barely dark when Spike left his crypt. There'd been worryingly little around for him to kill just recently and the vampire found he was getting antsy in the day time, not sleeping through and not wanting his own company. Bored of flicking through stolen books, bored of the drone of his stolen telly. Afraid to sit with no other distraction than his own right hand and persistent imaginings of his mortal enemy in the altogether.

Standing in his mortal enemy's front garden, mooning up at her window, that was _so_ much better.

Aside from a faint glow behind the closed living room curtains, the house was in darkness, and still Spike found he didn't have anywhere better to be. Except maybe inside. But he knew his girl's routine; she almost invariably came home for some kind of family meal before the main patrol and he didn't want to be caught rifling through her underwear drawer when she did. Spike spared a thought, and a smirk, for Riley, who was unlikely to ever catch Spike doing anything ever again. If anything, the soldier boy was more persona-non-grata than Spike himself. Not that the Slayer had been particularly grateful for his timely intervention but she was certainly single now, so score one for the vampire.

Single, and lonely, and unsatisfied. Make that absolutely gagging for it, because Spike couldn't imagine shagging that enormous hall monitor had ever been much of a thrill ride. He could be patient. Okay, patience not exactly his forte, but give it a week or so and she'd get bored of her fingers and her empty bed and he'd be right there waiting to fill that hole.

Spike added another dog-end to the increasingly noticeable pile of the front lawn and within seconds lit a second cigarette. That window was so tempting, and he'd bet good money the door would be open too. He could come back when she was asleep, creep in while she was tossing and turning in that dissatisfied sleep he imagined, and show her what a real man was. Okay, vampire. She might not think of him as boyfriend material but Spike knew the desire was there; give him an hour in her bed and she'd not want to go back to boys.

"Have you adopted that tree?"

Spike's head shot up in annoyance. He'd apparently been so lost in his... er... daydream that he'd let a teenager sneak up on him. Again.

"Fuck off, little sis."

"You're in _my_ garden."

Well yeah, he couldn't argue with that one. He watched Dawn struggle to balance a ridiculous stack of packages in such a way she could see over the top to glare at the vampire. Spike indulged in a brief fantasy of vamping out and watching her scatter the lot over the front lawn, then decided he couldn't be bothered. The child was too damn stupid to be scared of him.

"Was looking for your big sis; there's rumours afoot in the demon world."

"Well she's not here. She's still at the mall, choosing my gifts, so she'd better be a _long_ time. I got a ride home with Janice. Would you give me a hand with some of these boxes?"

"No."

"Oh c'mon! I'm going to drop something."

"Then I shall stand here and laugh at your misfortune. Evil, remember?"

"Your present is the most breakable."

Oh what did she take him for? Even William the Bloody wasn't currently so devoid of reputation that it couldn't be lowered by helping some chit with her shopping for the promise of a novelty mug come Christmas Day. "You got me a present?"

"Sure. It's in that box at the top."

"Won't want me accidentally seeing what it is, then," said Spike with a smirk.

Grumbling the whole time, the girl managed to lean her purchases against the porch support, freeing up a hand to get at her key. Spike waited until her hand was firmly wedged in her skin-tight pocket before he reached out and turned the unlocked handle.

"Oh you are such a jerk."

"An evil jerk," he corrected. "And wasn't me that left your front door open. Why, anyone could just walk in here."

Dawn glared some more, mostly from habit, then her eyes suddenly narrowed, making Spike unaccountably nervous. "Is that what you _do_?"

"What?"

"You're always lurking around our house. Do you just let yourself in?"

"Nah," breezed Spike with fake insouciance. "Nothing in there worth nicking."

"Oh you do!"

He glowered at her, to disappointingly little effect. It wasn't so much that she wasn't scared that bothered him, though it did bother him in a 'found it worryingly endearing' way. It was the way she treated him as an equal. Socially, he was now on a par with possibly the brattiest teen he'd ever met. Just because her tiny, self absorbed teenage brain lacked the imagination to picture him in his glory days, casually ending lives and inflicting suffering, she considered him just another excluded Scooby runt. His own fault, really. He'd encouraged the feeling of camaraderie when he'd been held prisoner by the Slayer, found it useful to have someone to talk to who occasionally shared his hatred of the bossy elder Summers and of course to smuggle him extra blood and the occasional bottle. This complete lack of respect was the price.

"Do not." Oh great, now she really had dragged him down to her level. If he sank any lower Spike would be signing up for Greenpeace marches and finding Star Trek endlessly fascinating. "Fuck off."

"You're in _my_ house."

Okay, technically he was standing in the hallway, that wasn't a reason to get snippy. "Fine. I'm leaving. Wishing you a shitty Christmas and a miserable new year."

He turned for a stompy, swirling departure, the effect somewhat marred by the lack of good swirl room in the hallway and a rather limp exit line. Made no odds, the whole thing was thoroughly ruined by Dawn.

"You can help me put up the Christmas decorations if you like."

"No I couldn't! I'm eeeevil."

"Jeez, who peed on your Weetabix? You helped me do stuff before."

"Have not!"

"What about breaking open Giles' brief case? Or teaching me to swear in French? Oh! Painting my nails black!"

"That was evil stuff. Doesn't count."

"Christmas lights are evil. We're celebrating the commercial spirit that's suffocating good old fashioned Christian values."

"You do it then. I'll offer the benefit of my evil wisdom, helpful advice and such."

"Spike! I can't reach the ceiling. I need a _man_."

"Not falling for that line, bit, not some pillock that needs a little girl to feel manly, that guy left town. 'Sides, I don't think a half inch is going to make a difference, give it another year and you'll be taller than me." Bigger bollocks'n all, the way his luck was running. She'd be beating him up too, then, only a matter of time before the Summers violent genes came shining through. It'd be 'put the decorations up or I'll break your nose' and then he'd have to stake himself for sure, best not get anywhere near the top of that slippery slope.

"Oh go on. I want it to look nice when Buffy gets home."

"And I want you all dead. If wishes were horses... Where's your mum to? Shouldn't she be stringing the lights?"

"She's gone to visit Great Aunt Hilda in Wisconsin."

"And left her girls all alone for Christmas?"

"Well the doctors told her she should rest up, and Buffy thought she wouldn't rest if she was here making Christmas dinner. Besides, Aunt Hilda's really old; she's probably going to be dead by next Christmas. And Buffy gets out of everything by being the Slayer."

"And you?"

"Well I don't see why I should kiss up to a bunch of old people just because Buffy wants me out of town," said the teen in a sulky tone that told Spike there'd already been much discussion on this subject. "It's not like she has a boyfriend to get snugly with, she just wants to get me out of the way all the time."

Well there was an idea Spike could get into. The Slayer all alone over Christmas, needing some yuletide cheer, that traditional seasonal pick-me-up of a good hard fuck. In fact he got so into the idea that when reality resurfaced he had to check back to make sure he'd not said that out loud, but Dawn was still busy opening boxes, scattering shiny things around the kitchen in seemingly random piles.

"The old man?" he asked.

"England. He flew out two days ago, didn't you know? Fact finding mission, researching that skank that beat Buffy. And 'the opportunity to celebrate an ancient pagan festival without invoking the spirit of cartoons.' Were you really here to see Buffy or were you going to break in?"

"It's not breaking if you don't lock the door. And yes, I was after your sis. Thought she might like a patrol buddy seeing as all the demons have gone to ground."

"You're just scared those soldiers were looking for you. You want the big bad Slayer to protect you."

"Do not. What soldiers?"

"You know, the commandos Buffy saw."

"No I don't know! No bugger ever tells me anything."

But Dawn was just exercising her mouth, unaware of the vampire's sudden interest. " _I_ think she's just missing Riley. Now she's imagining burly guys with tasers all over the place, I think she should-"

"Dawn!" Spike caught her arm in a grip that had his chip tingling with warning. The girl looked up at him in surprise. "What soldiers?"

"The ones Buffy saw," she answered in a duh tone of voice that had Spike wishing he could transfer his grip to her neck. "Like Initiative, only we can't find the actual Initiative. Buffy checked the old one, it's all abandoned and full of dead demons. She wouldn't let me go, like I'm a child or something, I'm way old enough to look at dead demons. She even tried to stop me going on my sleepover tomorrow, she's such a b-"

"And she didn't give me a heads up?"

Dawn shrugged. "It not like we care if they take you. You're eeeevil, remember?"

Oh that was it. He ever got this chip out she was getting rubbed right off his 'not to be eaten' list. To add insult to injury, or potentially injury to insult, when Dawn passed him a box of assorted Christmas lights he just took it. Resigned to his probable fate of balancing on furniture spreading joy and Christmas cheer. Double fuck.

Dawn herded him towards the living room and he let himself be herded. Soldiers were worrying news and he wouldn't mind hearing more, it's not like he had anywhere better to be. Besides, new men were the thing, magazines and chat shows all agreed and Spike suspected his Slayer was one for magazines, maybe stringing lights would be the thing to help her see him in a new light. Or earn him a broken nose, the guessing kept it fun.

"Jesus," he exclaimed as Dawn pushed the door open. "This is undecorated?"

The tree was up and lit, and almost every spare inch of the ceiling festooned with gaudy baubles and tinsel. The only thing, that Spike could see, that was lacking was a few genuine candles to incinerate the lot.

"This is _unfinished_. We need lights. Mom put up all the dangly stuff before she left but the lights were broken."

Wordlessly Spike pointed to the tree, undeniably lit up like... well, like a Christmas tree. Dawn waved him away. "Those are Tara's lights; she and Willow put the tree up yesterday, we had Scooby Christmas dinner early because their flight was this morning. Buffy cooked, it was disgusting. We need lights in the window and stuff."

"The witches away too? Nice to know I'm not left out of the loop."

"Like you care. It's just going to be us and Xander and Anya for Christmas dinner, isn't that strange? Now stick that end on the curtain rod. Be careful."

Spike jumped up on the end of the sofa, taking an annoyed satisfaction in the boot prints he left. "As you wish, Mistress. But some of these are gonna have to go on the _outside_ of the house or your ceiling's going to collapse under the weight of it all."

"There's some for the kitchen," prattled Dawn cheerfully. "And that string can go on the tree too. Be careful! Those ones are really old, Buffy took them all to get new bulbs and it was really expensive."

"She'd be a bit miffed if I strangled you with them, then?"

"Yeah. Willow already broke the star for the tree and Buffy spent _hours_ looking for one in the mall. She goes into Martha Stewart overdrive when mom's away. We couldn't find one. Doesn't it look bare?"

Spike looked, really he did, but the tip of the tree wasn't even visible through the forest of danglies. "Bare," he agreed straight faced. "You couldn't find a plastic star, in a shopping mall, the week before Christmas?"

"This was a special one, we put it on the tree every year since, like, before I was born. It was blown glass with glitter in it."

Spike hooked the last of the lights over the end of the rod and tossed the flex to Dawn. "That's me done. These Christmas lights are completely devoid of evil, not so much as a frayed wire."

Dawn made a noise like a puppy being trodden on. "You can't go! What about the kitchen?"

"Sod the kitchen."

"Oh! I'll get bored, I've got so many presents to wrap and Buffy won't be home for _hours_."

"Do I look like a bleeding child minder?"

Dawn eyed him critically, Spike vamped out. "Maybe we should get you something more Christmassy," said the teen, unfazed by the bumpies. "A Santa hat."

"That's it, girl. Chip or no you're Christmas dinner."

"If I pretend to be scared will you stay? I really can't reach the kitchen window."

Damn girl. Just had no right going around reminding him of her sister by being completely unafraid of him. "One more string. And you have to pretend to be terrified."

 ****

Christmas Eve's Eve

Spike closed the book with an angry snap. Such a simple spell. A year and more he'd spent enslaved to this hateful chip and all the time the solution had been hidden in plain sight in the Magic Box, in a book a child could understand.

Spike'd never wanted to read Magic and Medicine in the first place. He had slid some books under his coat during his last visit to the Magic Box, in the hope he could cause some mayhem or exchange them for cash, but then he started leafing through in one of his many moments of idleness as he waited for the sun to safely set. Just a bunch of namby pamby half baked white wiccas and their schemes for helping people. Spells to stop bleeding, numbing spells, spells for removing shrapnel... There it was, all laid out for him, written in English, helpful diagram, an idiot could do it. Hell, given a week or so's careful coaching, Harmony could do it. White magic, how pathetic was that? All that research, asking around in the demon world, kidnapping Initiative doctors, and the solution to all his killing people needs was sitting in a book of white magic. All he required was a suitable nurse/mage and he was off.

He opened the book again, checking it wasn't a hallucination. Bookmarking the page was a note scribbled on the flyleaf that Buffy had pulled out of one of Giles' priceless old tomes. It was hardly a love letter - not like he was keeping it as a memento, just a handy bookmarker was all. A handy bookmarker that read: 'Spike. There’re soldiers in town. Keep out of sight. B'.

She'd obviously stopped off at the crypt on the way home from the mall, most likely while he was lounging in her kitchen, plugging in enough brightly coloured bulbs to make the national grid beg for mercy. Not that he cared; it didn't exactly warm the cockles of his unbeating heart, it was just a useful bookmark. That happened to be drawing his eye more than the spell that would finally allow him to be the big bad again and rip the bitch's throat out. And if Spike hadn't realised he'd left it too late before, he did now. Because instead of rubbing his hands gleefully and plotting his first carnage this year, Spike's mind kept wandering to the Christmas gift he'd stolen last night.

Bloody Slayer had taken over his brain and damn near beaten it into submission. He shouldn't care if her tree went without its traditional star. He sure as hell shouldn't have been balancing over the town hall display at three o'clock in the morning stealing said star and trying to justify it as vandalism and therefore evil. He should get the chip out, kill the bitch, drape her body under the tree with the other presents - _that_ would be evil. Spike knew with a dreadful certainty it was never going to happen.

Stunningly awful as it was to admit, Spike liked the status quo. It had given him a fright, waking up to realise he'd somehow fallen in love with his mortal enemy, but a couple of small temper tantrums later and he'd adapted. Soldier boy had conveniently exited stage, leaving Buffy with a niche that was just Spike sized and an inner voice that shouldn't have been able to exist in a vampire's head suggested he put the book away, worry about the chip after Christmas. He'd gotten caught up in the soap opera that was Scooby life and it was his turn to play the romantic lead. Just yesterday he'd been cursing the stupid lump of silicone and how vulnerable it left him to even the most unarmed and brain-dead of soldiers but that was before he'd found her note. Soldiers weren't so scary if the Slayer had his back.

Spike's evil side, which he'd kidded himself until recently was all of him, tried to argue but it too was being distracted by thoughts of Buffy. And when even his evil inner voice was calling her by her given first name it was time to admit he was incurable. The closest he was coming to an evil scheme was how to best time his gift to catch Buffy alone, and like most of his schemes nowadays it segued straight into images of her shagging him. Spike wasn't stupid; on some level he knew that he didn't have much of a chance with the Slayer even now the field was clear, but a chance was a chance and a bloke had to try.

He'd never get the chance to live in her world again. Once Buffy discovered he was chipless, they'd be enemies again whether Spike wished it or no. He could almost hear the sacred duty speech leading up to their final fight. And good though the fight sounded, Spike didn't see it getting him laid. Not that he was getting laid regular now, unless you counted Harmony - and Spike didn’t - but he had other things. He'd not fallen so low to consider hanging Christmas lights a privilege but it was something. He got to wander into her home whenever it took his fancy; be an accepted, if unwelcome, part of her life in a way she'd not allow if he was killing people. Sometimes Spike craved the kill so much it almost took him over, but that wasn't the same as wanting his old life back. And besides, his old life wasn't there to go back to; if he was honest with himself old Spike no longer existed to go back to it. And he knew he couldn't take her with him.

Of all the crazy schemes and unlikely alternatives he'd run through his head this evening, he'd never considered turning her. Maybe back in the day, when he'd been sure he wanted her dead and life was simple, he'd toyed with the idea of what a formidable vampire this Slayer would make. But _this_ vampire knew better than most that turning was an inexact science and whatever formidable vampire he might be left with, it wouldn't be Buffy.

He had to have _her_. Had to try for her. Couldn't spend the rest of his unlife chipped now that he had a choice, but he wasn't ready for the do or die stand either. He wanted her so damn much he was even willing, for once, to stop and think before making any rash decisions. There were always side effects to magic, always catches to getting what you wanted, and as good as it would be to stalk the night without having to worry about human threats, there was always a downside. Thinking some wouldn't dust him. Fuck it, even the thinking could wait till after Christmas - Spike had a gift to deliver.

Let

 ****

Chapter Two

Dawn was feeling a tad nervous. That wasn't silly, one a.m. in Sunnydale was not a good time and place to be pounding the sidewalk. Dawn would just keep her eyes and ears open and get safely home to the sister that was going to murder her. 'Sleepover at Janice's' became 'Bronzing with Janice' which had all been fun and games until Janice had ditched her for a boy with a moped and left Dawn to slink back to her own home alone. In the dark. To her soon-to-be-violently-angry big sister. It was sensible to be nervous under such circumstances. Because Dawn definitely wasn't scared of walking home by herself. She'd seen Buffy fight a dozen times, she'd learnt the moves, she knew how to handle herself. Those unfamiliar noises weren't creeping her out, no siree.

But still she was relieved when the house came into view, Buffy now within screaming distance. Unfortunately when one of the shadows did leap out at her, it clamped a cold hand over her mouth, cutting off the scream before she'd drawn breath. Dragging her into the bushes with an iron grip that gave no room to struggle.

"Damnit, snacksize! Quit wriggling, you'll set my chip off."

The voice was an unrecognisable hiss but the words familiar and Dawn sagged with relief in Spike's arms. He loosened his grip and removed his hand.

"You stupid vampire! I thought you were going to kill - mphfff!"

"Might do at that, you don't keep it down. Look." Using the hand now firmly covering her mouth again Spike turned Dawn's head in the direction of her next door neighbour’s driveway. It took Dawn's human eyes a good few seconds to make anything out that far from a streetlight, then she could just about see the outline of a van hidden in the shadow of a Leylandai row, possibly something moving nearby. She pulled his hand away.

"What's that?"

"Your sis. Drugged I think. Initiative wankers."

"Wh-"

"Shhh. 'M listening."

Dawn could hear nothing over the usual creaks and groans of a windy night, but obediently she kept quiet, crouched in the bushes with Spike. Again he put a hand out to silence her, this time stilling her nervously bouncing leg. " _Quiet._ "

After what seemed like an age of keeping still, Dawn caught the softened clicks of car doors closing, followed by the rev of a quiet engine. The teen could keep silent no longer.

"Spike! Was that Buffy? Are they leaving with Buffy? Do something!"

"Humans, bit. What would you have me do?" The van pulled out of the driveway and turned onto Revello drive. Spike watched till it was out of sight then pulled Dawn to her feet. "Get in the house. They got what they came for."

"Did you get the number plate? We could-"

"Don't be stupid." The front door had clearly been busted open and with little finesse, handle still attached to the frame and splintered wood swinging freely. Spike pulled Dawn inside and started dragging the hall table across as a barricade. "And don't put any lights on, just in case. They were headed to some place called Burnham Beaches. You know it?"

"That's the bit of coast south of Sunnydale Bay. I think it's mostly desert."

"Figures. Sounds like there's an army base there now." A hat stand joined the table, wedged securely across.

"But what's going on?" Dawn asked, and though she could hear the plaintive and scared note in her voice she could not control it.

"Not a bloody clue. Check the back door, yeah? They were soldiers alright, using all the Initiative lingo. Were talking about Washington but it sounded like they'd be holding her at this place a while."

"But what do they want with Buffy?"

Impatiently Spike pushed her towards the kitchen, where the back door was wedged open. "I ain't psychic shortstuff. 'Cause she crossed swords with the Initiative mark I? To build superSlayer soldiers? To recruit her as the president's new bodyguard for all I fucking know, that guy's got to have a few dodgy demon pals. When's your mum back?"

"Two days after Christmas."

"Fuck. Anyone in town but the whelp?"

"Not really. Spike, what are you doing?"

He was tugging on the back door, which had been thrown open so forcefully the handle was embedded into the plaster of the kitchen wall. "Closing this door so nothing gets in and eats you. What do you bleeding think I'm doing?"

"What are you doing _here_?"

The back door swung closed with an angry bang, not fastened but defensible. Now that he'd run out of things to do with his hands, Spike started patting down his duster for cigarettes. "Brought ‘round a star for your tree," he mumbled.

"Oh I knew it! You are _so_ crushing on my sister!"

Spike fixed her with his best evil glare, the one guaranteed to chill any human to their very marrow. Unsurprisingly, Dawn remained immune. "Shut your filthy mouth. That's just twisted."

"Oh you _so_ -"

"I said shut it!" The volume made her jump, but Dawn wasn't intimidated and faced him with that obstinate gleam in her eye that told the world she was made from her sister. Her sister who'd just been snatched from her home by a bunch of official looking shadows and taken away, possibly for torture. And because she didn't want to show she was scared - that would mean admitting there was a reason to be scared - Dawn stomped her foot and glared right back at the vampire. "Looks like you and I are it for team whitehat," Spike continued irritably. "Best not be pissing off the nice vampire, yeah?"

"We have to rescue her."

He nodded shortly. "We need a plan. Got a light, Nibblet?"

She shook her head, watching in tense silence for minutes as Spike busied himself trying to light his fag from the toaster. He finally managed to coax out a plume of smoke and turned back to the girl.

"What we need is a map," he said decisively. "Got a couple hours till daylight but there's no point haring after her till we know where she is. Nip to the Magic Box, find out where she is, make a plan. Your mum take her car?"

Another head shake. "It's in the garage. But what can we do, Spike? You can't fight them and I'm not exactly Lara Croft."

"That'll be part of the plan. Less you've got something better?"

Dawn didn't. Buffy was the go-to girl for violence and daring rescues, and Buffy emphatically wasn't here. That part was just sinking in now.

"They called her an acquisition, pidge," said Spike in a gentler voice. "They weren't for killing her. Time's on our side."

"But what are we going to do?"

"We'll get cracking." He yanked open the creaking door and took a determined step into the night. "How are you with magic?"

********

"What do we need Motherwort for?"

"It was in the book, I think. Just find it."

"What book?"

"Bleeding hell, Dawn! Do you ever stop asking questions?" But even as he snapped the vampire felt a twinge of guilt. Then a twinge of annoyance about the guilt. Though stubbornly unafraid of _him_ , it was easy to see the girl was scared for her sister, and to be honest so was Spike. Scared of the sheer terror that bubbled up at the idea of Buffy caged by the same people who'd fucked with his head. Scared that she'd disappear forever into the bowels of some Area 51 and he'd never get to kill her for being stupid enough to get taken by a bunch of puny humans.

The Magic Box was starting to look a tad ransacked. As this was a Slayer related emergency, Spike had ignored Dawn's instructions to be careful, had torn the handle off the door with one quick twist and not bothered with tidiness as they'd searched for what they needed. Books were falling from shelves as he'd pulled down any that might contain a locator spell. Herbs lay scattered over the counter, candles in disarray. Grocery bags full of pilfered goods were stacking up on the table as Spike tried to cover all his bases before the sun came up.

"You do like her, don't you?"

Too busy piling up candles and vials of sand to glare, Spike feigned ignorance. "Nina Simone? The bird from the Victoria’s Secret commercial? You wanna narrow it down some?"

"Buffy."

"Yes. I have the greatest respect and admiration for her fists. Have you found the dried lizard’s feet?"

"Lizard feet, check. You do, don't you?"

"No."

"So why are you going all gung-ho to rescue her? I thought you were _eeevil_."

The vampire tossed the girl an empty jar. "Get newt feet too," he said crossly. "Can't remember what the spell said. And you ever hear me say I wouldn't wish this chip on my worst enemy? That's why."

"Wishing isn't the same as rescuing," argued Dawn stubbornly, grabbing a handful of dried amphibian toes from the big jar behind the counter.

"Well I guess I'd rather fall in with the Slayer than the government. That everything?"

"Yup. You're crushing on her, aren't you?"

That was the point where Spike's patience ran out and he would have hit her, chip or no. But when he whirled around, hand raised, she had the big pleading eyes turned on him and Spike realised she was seeking security from the same fear that was driving him to anger. Just a child really, a child who'd just misplaced half her tiny family and was finding the strength not to blubber about it. Maybe he could find patience.

"Fine. If it makes you feel better to think I want a ride on your sister then fine. I'm crushing on Buffy. You keep it to yourself and I'll pretend not to notice you're crushing on me, deal?" Spike grinned at her as he gathered up the bags and she managed to smile back. "Can that. You tell anyone I even used that phrase and I'll-"

"Kill me in several different and imaginative ways. I got it."

"Good."

The product of their burglary all collected up, Spike kicked open the door, stepped onto the deserted four a.m. street and Dawn followed. The door sagged uselessly behind them. "Now that's breaking in."

"Yes, you're still evil," recited Dawn dutifully. "Do we have a plan yet?"

"We do. Off to my crypt."

"That's the plan?"

"That's the next step."

"Is step three hiding in your crypt until Buffy finds her own way home?"

Spike caught her arm and spun her around to face him. "We're going to rescue your sister, you hear me sweetheart? Between us we've got more brains than the American Military and we want her more, don't we, and that means we're going to win. So you quit worrying, we’ll have her home by Christmas. I'm not going to let you down, you got it?"

He held her gaze till she nodded. "Good. There's a book back at my crypt that I need then we'll get back to your house for the day, just in case the little shits come looking for me too. They ain't likely to raid your place twice. We'll do the location spell when it gets light, give you time to figure these books out and give them time to stop moving. Then you can do this spell to take my chip out and when it gets dark I'll leave you with the whelp, go kill me a few soldiers. That's a plan, right?"

"No. Way."

Ah. The stupidly optimistic part of Spike had hoped if he snuck that in there normal enough she'd fall in line; she was only a kid after all and used to being led. Maybe he shouldn't have mentioned killing soldiers. With a deep sigh he threw the stolen bags into the back of Joyce's SUV and pushed Dawn towards the passenger door.

"I know it's not exactly a Slayer approved plan, but it's the only one I've got and unless you fancy Xander's chances against the US Army, I suggest you go with it. I ain't looking to hurt you, bit, you know that. Isn't the chip that's making me help you now and I'm not going to turn on you when it's gone, but I'm no use to your sister like this. Wherever she is she'd going to be well protected and I won't be able to just grab her and run, I'll need to fight. You _have_ to trust me."

Dawn let him run through this whole speech, backed up against the side of the Jeep, a mulish expression on her face. "You are not dumping me at Xander's while you go off to rescue _my_ sister without me."

Spike blinked. "Do you have _any_ priorities _whatsoever_?"

"I want my sister back."

"Fine." Teeth gritted, Spike pushed her into the seat and slammed the door. He jumped the bonnet and slid behind the wheel. "But you're phoning Giles before we leave. Then, when you get me killed, at least he'll know where to look for his Slayer."

  
 ****  


Chapter Three

When Buffy came around for the second time, there was no easy snapping of the cuffs that chained her to the wall. At first she thought they must have pulled out the special HST strength handcuffs after her first escape attempt, but as the tranq gun drugs wore off she began to realise there was something more seriously wrong. There was a needle mark on her arm which might not have been so surprising but Buffy healed _fast_. Major wounds gone in days, the tiny red dot left by a syringe should have disappeared by now. Buffy was starting to suspect whatever they'd given her had dampened her Slayer powers and she was afraid.

Chained up, not exactly a new thing for the Slayer, but never in exactly these circumstances and she'd only ever once been powerless. It panicked her then and it panicked her now. Her friends were scattered for the holiday season, and while Buffy knew they'd rally to her aid as soon as anyone realised she was missing, Buffy wasn't sure she'd rate their chances against the US Army. From what she'd overheard from her captors and the little she'd seen of the base, that's precisely who had her now. The men had all been darkly dressed, lacking insignia but clearly in some kind of ranking uniform and all armed in some fashion.

She must have been here hours now, including the two turns at being unconscious. It was hard to tell, without the benefit of a window, but it had to be well into Christmas Eve. Dawn was probably not even worried yet; she rarely returned from a sleepover before midday and wouldn't be concerned if she found the house empty unless her masked intruders had left obvious signs of their presence.

For the first time since the sting of abandonment had started to fade, Buffy began to really regret Riley's departure. He would have noticed her gone, if they'd still been dating, and with Willow away in the sticks he was possibly the one person Buffy knew with the contacts and know-how to maybe get her back. It was sad, really, to be thinking of him so soon only in terms of use, it said far too much about the strength of their relationship. At least she could be sure in her own mind that he had nothing to do with her abduction.

Buffy must have sat there a couple more hours without seeing a soul. This place seemed considerably less well funded than the Initiative's extensive complex and much smaller from what she'd seen during her abortive escape attempt. No fancy sliding bullet proof glass panels, just regular old doors, which would have been hopeful if she'd still had her Slayer strength. As it was, she could only wait and dread what was in store for her and worry about the sister left at home alone.

The Initiative should be reassuring compared to demons. Buffy could be fairly sure that whatever their agenda was it was probably non-apocalyptic, but for personal choice Buffy was starting to think she'd pick demons. Their goals were usually immediate, at least. Buffy had no wish to spend the next few years being experimented on in some underground government facility; that was enough to make the grisly death seem quite attractive. The accommodations here might be rough and ready, but she got the distinct impression this was just a temporary holding place.

A couple hours more and the fear was starting to pale compared to the tedium and discomfort. The drugs had left her head and mouth fuzzy, hours without water and the fuzz was now a carpet where taking a breath through her mouth left her tongue stuck uncomfortably in place.

There'd been neither sight nor sound of anyone the whole time, so a commotion outside was almost a welcome distraction. As muffled thuds escalated to running and shouting, then a persistent battering started up outside her door, Buffy dared hope that the cavalry had come early. Those hopes were dashed as the door swung open to reveal one battered soldier holding a swipe card and behind him her leather clad ex-archnemesis in game-face, holding the soldier, in an obviously painful headlock. And this was the universe's way of punishing her for mentally preferring the quick death by demon, because she hadn't meant like this, chained up and powerless, unable even to get to her feet before she was drained dry by the vampire she'd been too soft hearted to stake.

At least with the army she'd likely still be alive long enough for her friends to mount a rescue attempt, but with Spike and his short attention span she'd be unlikely to make Christmas, mere hours away though it might be. Because whatever Spike had been up to in the week since she'd seen him, he was obviously now chip free. And that didn't lead to long lived Slayers. Unless he decided to toy with her a while, avenge himself for those weeks chained in the bathtub, which was maybe less of an upside when you considered the potential torture. So when Buffy heard more running footsteps she honestly didn't know who to root for, though that didn't make it less frustrating that she couldn't affect the outcome one way or the other. Spike flung the soldier he was holding across Buffy's cell where he slumped unconscious, and the vampire disappeared from view. Tugging uselessly on her chains, to Buffy the pause was interminable, it was impossible to tell how the fight was going from noises alone. If Spike had sold her out to these people to get his chip removed then he'd obviously reneged on the deal because it sounded like a small war was going on out there.

Another soldier, dead or unconscious, was flung into the room and Spike was back in the doorway, then stalking towards her, still in gameface. Buffy braced herself, wondering if he was about to end their dance right there but he bent and pulled her chains out of the wall with a breezy 'hello pet,' yanked her to her feet with the slack. Though she feared it was pointless Buffy dug her heels in, which hardly slowed him down. And then she was sure it was her and not the handcuffs, she'd been stronger than Spike last she'd checked and he should not be able to haul her around this way. He turned to look at her, surprised that she'd even tried to resist, jerked impatiently on the chain. "Let's be a moving sweetheart. I can't kill the whole bloody army if they turn up."

Definitely no Slayer strength then. Buffy fell into step besides the vampire as he strode down the corridor and through double doors propped open with more unmoving soldiers. There'd been no finesse to his entry, it looked as if the vampire had simply walked straight into the compound and dealt with anyone who'd gotten in his way. If he'd gone to all that trouble and risk just to get his hands on her... well it really didn't bode well for what he might have in store next. But she would wait until they were well away from all men with tasers before she made her stand; if by some miracle she managed to beat Spike powerless she didn't want to run straight back into the hands of the army.

Logic told her that the Initiative drugs would metabolize soon enough. Buffy doubted they had the know-how to permanently remove her powers even if such a thing were possible, and whatever reason they'd had for snatching her from her home must be connected to her strength in some way. If Spike dallied with her long enough maybe they'd wear off, but though he'd promised not so long ago he'd get his one good day she couldn't see the vampire sticking to any one activity for a whole 24 hours. Whatever his original idea in snatching her like this she'd be unlikely to live long enough to put that plan into action.

Outside there seemed to be no-one around at all, though even Spike could not have killed everybody on the site. He hoisted her over a fairly flimsy chainlink fence and Buffy landed lightly on the other side, briefly considering running then. But as far as she could see there was only sandy scrubland for miles, and with his extra inches, superior eyesight and no need to breath, Spike was likely to be much faster over the rough terrain. Better to play along meekly. For now.

Seconds later, Spike was over himself, catching her elbow and guiding her through a gap in the dusty bushes. Buffy's heart lurched as she saw her mom's car and her worst fears were confirmed as she spotted her sister laid out on the back seat. As Spike opened the passenger door and the automatic light came on, she could see the rise and fall of Dawn's chest and didn't know whether to hope or dread. The dead at least were safely beyond torment, Spike had obviously gone to some trouble to get them both captive and there couldn't be any way in which that was good. All those threats that began 'when I get this chip out...' and Buffy had never taken a one of them seriously, assuming, on the slim chance of him ever removing the chip, that his plans would boil down to fight to the death which she would then win. Problem solved. Obviously Spike was capable of more planning than she'd ever given him credit for and far from winning the fight she was in no position to offer even the slightest resistance.

As he got in the car beside her, the evening took on a whole new dimension. Buffy could remain stoical in the face of her own fate-worse-that-death, could consider the possibilities of her ending with some measure of detachment, but not for her sister. How she wished the girl had gone with mom. Buffy had fought hard to get them both safely out of town for Christmas while Giles tried to find out more about Glory and The Key in England, but Dawn must have sensed she was unwelcome and put her foot down the way only teenagers could. And Buffy, unable to say why Sunnydale wasn't safe, had had to give in. She'd worried still more when Dawn had announced mom had left permission for a sleepover, but the threat of Glory hadn't seemed immediate and maybe the worst thing she could do now was start treating Dawn differently.

The girl might not really be her sister, the bond between them magic and manufactured memories, but that had long since ceased to matter for the Slayer. She couldn't picture the sleeping teen as nothing more than a ball of energy, only picture her mom coming home to find both her children gone. So though it pained her to do it, to show that weakness, and she fully expected Spike to laugh in her face, Buffy fell back to begging.

"Please don't kill her."

The vampire did laugh, but it wasn't the bwa-ha-ha of evil glee, just an amused chuckle followed by an entirely unexpected "Okay." Though she knew she sounded stupid Buffy couldn't help but repeat the word.

"I said okay. 'S only two little syllables. Can't say I didn't want to, mind, but I won't kill her. You're looking a bit weird Slayer, you doped up or summat?"

"I... Maybe."

"I didn't bite her," Spike continued easily. "So chill out. Don't want anyone getting hurt, do we? I just slipped her a couple of your mum's sleeping pills." He gave her that big, aren't-I-so-clever grin, Buffy tried not to flinch. "She's much less annoying when she's taking a nap," he added cheerfully, starting the engine and fishtailing round the corner of the desert road as the compound doors started to open.

Buffy had no idea where she was, being unconscious for the journey out. She couldn't make out much in the dark of the desert, the dusty track and sparse vegetation were typical for southern California but for all Buffy knew typical of Texas and Arizona too, only her mother's car told her for sure they were still in America. All a mute point when she didn't know what direction they were heading.

There was really no guessing if she could take him at his word not to kill her sister. On the surface of it he had no particular reason to lie, and there'd been moments recently when Spike seemed to have shown more sensitivity of feeling, almost compassion, than you'd expect to find in a vampire. That night on the porch a few weeks ago, for instance, only hours after he'd promised her eventual death, when he'd inexplicably forgotten to mock her tears, offered comfort in that awkward British way. But maybe even then he'd been plotting to get that stupid chip removed. Only a few weeks more since the last time he'd really tried to kill her, if you don't count turning up at her place toting a shotgun. A few weeks since he'd lunged at her neck, fangs gleaming, ready to tear out her artery in a way that left no room for second thoughts. Brought up short by the same chip he'd just rid himself of.

Then there was kidnapping and drugging her little sister in the first place, that weighed quite heavily on the down side of Buffy's mental weighing up. He'd hardly go to that trouble just to let her go. Maybe he'd not expected to find her so helpless, had just taken Dawn along as insurance in case Buffy was too much for him. The idea didn't seem very Spike-like somehow, too cowardly, too sensible, but there was the overwhelming evidence of her unconscious little sister. Unless he really did have a plan beyond 'get back at Buffy' and Dawn was along to ensure her compliance.

A slight chance even that he didn't know she was without her powers, but almost as if answering her unvoiced question Spike reached over and easily snapped the chain that linked her cuffs. The wall fastening and bits of plaster fell to the floor.

"Must be getting old, Slayer," Spike said with a grin. "They weren't so tough."

Crap. But that could work to her advantage, no point after all hiding a weakness that she couldn't use. His guard would be down and it was the smallest chance she had. It was just possible that the vampire really did want a fair fight and Dawn had interrupted his plans, that he wouldn't try and kill her until the drugs had worn off. You never could tell with Spike, generally he'd always come at her in a straight attack and he'd always seemed to get off on the fighting. But Buffy wasn't going to rely on just possiblys and she wasn't going to fight fair with her sister's life in the balance; she'd appease him for now but if the opening came she'd stake him.

"Your mum's nearly out of gas," said Spike. "There look to be anything following us?"

Buffy twisted in her seat but could hardly make out the road behind the car. If they were following, they were doing it stealthily and mostly Buffy hoped they weren't. The evilest of Spike's schemes didn't measure up to the Initiative's largely well meant experimentation. Buffy hardly knew herself yet what her sister was and certainly didn't want the Initiative getting their hands on her, deciding whether or not she counted as human. Thinking as calmly as she could on the subject, Spike was unlikely to do anything worse than drain her dry. To Dawn at least. And if he had to stop for gas, the pit stop might provide the opportunity she needed. He'd need the keys to fill up the tank so no point hoping he'd leave them in the car but if she could just catch him unawares...

"Nothing with lights," she answered cautiously. "I can't really see."

"Can't hear engines. Can't hear a helicopter either. Reckon I got here just in time, looked like they were planning to fly you out to somewhere better guarded. That place weren't nothing but a glorified helipad." Buffy could see lights up ahead now, the long string of streetlights that denoted a busy road. "Should be at the main drag in a minute," Spike continued. "I think there was a petrol station. If nothing's caught up with us by then I reckon we're in the clear."

"So are you going to tell me your evil plan now?"

"Hey!" One hand casually gripping the steering wheel, Spike took both eyes off the dark and bumpy road to grin at her. "Don't mock the plan Slayer, it was a great plan. Won, didn't I? Got the prize?"

"You got your chip out."

"That too. You wanna complain I can always take you back."

"No!" He was still grinning, looking so damn pleased with himself, entirely unconcerned. Which made sense, really. He'd won, like he said, back to being the big bad and her eventual fate meant little now that he'd had his chance to gloat. Buffy tried to keep her tone conversational as she asked. "Did your plan have to involve drugging my sister?"

"Not really," Spike admitted with an easy shrug. "Just seemed quieter than tying her up. I mean - would you trust her to keep still and shut up in the middle of trouble?" The car bumped onto smoother tarmac, under the bright lights of the freeway, and Spike swung it around into the traffic flow. "After she took my chip out-"

" _Dawn_ took your chip out?"

"Yeah. Quick learner with the smoke and mirrors that one, I'll give her that. There it is." Spike deftly steered her mother’s 4x4 off the road and up to a free pump. "I'll just be a sec, Slayer. Sit tight, yeah? Give a yell you see any soldiers."

That was it; Buffy was going to find a way to kill both of them. Of course she'd noticed that Dawn had a soft spot for the vampire, had been endlessly fascinated back when he was chained up in Giles' bathtub and curious ever since. But never in her wildest dreams had Buffy thought Dawn could be so spectacularly stupid as to set Spike loose again on the unsuspecting public. He must have been working on her for weeks, probably ever since his last try at a chipectomy had failed. She should have staked him then, when he'd proved over and over he could still be dangerous, feeding even for all she knew. If Harmony could kidnap doctors for him she could kill his dinner too. Dawn had mentioned he'd been around but Buffy hadn't thought to suspect he had a plan beyond general annoyance, and all the while he'd been turning those puppy dog eyes on her innocent little sister. Until Dawn had forgotten how dangerous he was, felt sorry for him enough to take the chip out. He was going down. With or without Slayer powers the little creep was dust.

Buffy waited until he'd filled the tank, disappeared inside the near deserted shop, then she took the emergency stake out of the glove compartment, slunk out of the car and flattened herself against the garage wall. He'd be able to sense her outside, she knew, but if her luck held he wouldn't realise how close she was until he was crumbling to dust. Then it would be a simple case of borrowing a phone, waiting for Xander to come and pick them up, and Dawn would be safe back home. After minutes she could sense him getting closer, stake poised ready. It almost pained her to do it, maybe he really would let her sister go and maybe he really did want a fair fight, but helpless Buffy wasn't going to take any chances.

As he came out the door her aim was true, driving her stake into the sinewy muscle over his heart.

I stole a line from Charlie Brooker in this chapter.

 ****

Chapter Four

  
" _Dawn_ took your chip out?"

Buffy's incredulous outrage was still ringing in the vampire's ears as he browsed the small selection of convenience products in the service station, and he was torn between amusement and trepidation. Before Buffy had been kidnapped, and there'd been time for idle consideration and 'when I get this chip out' type thoughts, he had thought she'd not be best pleased. And apparently his daring and heroic rescue hadn't bought him the get out of jail card he'd been expecting. He was hoping when she'd heard the full story and realised his other choice was abandoning her to the tender mercies of amoral government departments she'd relent, timing being what it was Spike had escaped that explanation but he couldn't hide in the shop forever, not in the middle of a getaway.

Spike wasn't exactly the kind of vampire that stopped still and allowed things to occur to him, as evidenced by the empty tank in the middle of a getaway and the general vagueness of his rescue plan. Even trapped inside during the endless daylight hours he'd been more concerned with pacing and fretting - and trying not to strangle Dawn when she'd wondered aloud for the hundredth time what was happening to Buffy - than thinking. The obvious side effects to their plan of attack hadn't really sunk in for the vampire.

The Slayer seemed almost angry to be rescued. And when he'd seen the look on her face when she'd first spotted her unconscious sister Spike had been braced to defend himself, but she'd got into the car without fuss, sat twiddling her thumbs without so much as a thank you. Which had rained on his fantasies of charging in, the knight in shining white armour for a change, to be greeted by a grateful and horny Slayer. Maybe gratitude was too much to ask from his favourite alpha female. Not used to being rescued, he reasoned, didn't like playing the damsel in distress. Still, he was the big damn hero whether she acknowledged it or not.

And he had to admit there was a bit of a thrill to be found there, storming the castle, getting the girl. Just... manly. And not only because of all the soldiers he'd gotten to punch, though that was a rush too. Spike didn't even know if he'd killed, certainly hadn't had time to sink his fangs into any of the tasteless wankers. Wasn't ready to think about feeding at all, it caused worrying little thoughts like 'Buffy really wouldn't like it.' Time enough to think about being evil when his girls were safe at home.

And Spike was going to carry right on and pretend he hadn't thought that. Bad enough that Buffy had possessed him, damned if he was going to start designating her annoying little sister 'his' too. Frustrated with himself and his uncharacteristic uncertainties, and afraid of what he might be avoiding by skulking in front of the cheesy snack section, he grabbed a handful of random junkfood and dumped it in a pile on the counter. Threw in one of those bottles of expensive tap water she seemed to like so much. It had taken a good few hours to find the place, the first stretching interminably for both Spike and Dawn until the drugs had kicked in and she'd taken an involuntary little nap on the backseat. Despite the Slayer's obvious disapproval, Spike couldn't quite bring himself to regret that little example of skulduggery.

It was likely to be a long drive home, may as well stock up on the necessities. As he handed the cashier notes liberated from Anya's till float, he noticed the clock over the counter was pushing half past midnight. Make that a three hour drive then.

Spike shoved the lot in his deep duster pockets and headed out. He could sense Buffy outside, should have known she'd not stay put; it was no wonder really that Summers Junior was such a pain. The blur of Slayer launching herself at him as he stepped through the door was a surprise, but still Spike didn't realise she was _attacking_ him until he registered the stake sticking out of his chest. His life didn't flash, and if not for thick leather and even thicker skin Spike's last moment of existence would have been wasted bemoaning the unfairness of it all. It took a couple of seconds to realise he wasn't crumbling to dust.

Buffy seemed surprised about that too, and to Spike's utter disbelief she was moving her hand, lunging forward to drive the stake the rest of the way home. Spike was faster, instinct alone saving him as he wrapped a hand round the wooden shaft and pulled it out with a painful squelch.

"You fucking bitch!"

He lashed out with the hand now holding the stake. Buffy made no move to duck, the blow sent her flying across the deserted forecourt, crashing heavily into a pump.

"That's fucking it?" he yelled after her. "No warning? No thank you? No 'hey Spike, we're mortal enemies again, now stand still while I stake you'?"

A few angry strides and he was nearly on her, Buffy pushed herself into a sitting position with one hand but made no other move to fight or flee. "Is that how you white hats play fair nowadays? Lure vampires in then stake them when they're not looking?"

"I'm sorry," she said quickly. "I didn't mean to make you mad."

"No? Well a funny fucking way of going about it, wouldn’t you say?" The vampire was shouting despite himself, he bunched a fist in Buffy's loose blouse and hauled her to her feet, too hurt and angry to see or comprehend the fear on her face. "I didn't kill her _all day_. Do you _know_ how annoying she is? And I didn't kill her. For you. Hare across state to rescue you from the one group of people I've good reason to fear and you bleeding well stake me for it! Damn right I'm mad!"

It was a harder blow, somehow, than her stubborn lack of swooning at his manly rescue. He defied nature, threw himself in with the forces of light, and he didn't even rate the perky quip and last fight even fledglings got before the inevitable dusty ending. Except it would be more accurate to say he was trying to be mad. Because she _had_ just staked him. But in such a sneaky and ineffective way Spike was having trouble believing that it had actually happened. And even if he'd been completely on board with the anger those huge hazel eyes staring back fearfully would have derailed that train. The fearfully part was just starting to register with Spike; he paused a second, cocked his head on one side and tried to figure out this unusual expression.

"Are you afraid of me, Slayer?"

Her eyes flashed and Spike braced himself for the violence he'd expected since he'd stalked over here. And far too late it occurred to the vampire that if she really wanted him dead he didn't stand a huge chance even without the handicap of not actually wanting to kill her back. But Buffy didn't move. He was holding her off the floor by her clothing and she didn't move.

"Yes!" Buffy spat.

"That's new," commented the vampire mildly. "So, love, you wanna explain why you're not punching me right about now?"

********

The timing and aim were perfect, the stake drove home true. But Buffy had misjudged the resilience of ribs and cartilage; her full strength was behind the blow but only an inch of wood embedded itself into his torso. There was a split second where vampire and Slayer were both processing the failed staking. Buffy could have acted then, one sharp tap to the end would have driven the stake like a nail through his heart but she was too slow. She hadn't planned for that, it hadn't occurred to the Slayer that her drugged and leaden muscles wouldn't have the strength to manage what even Dawn had accomplished on more than one occasion.

Spike mirrored her shock. More than that, he glanced from the wood to the Slayer in utter disbelief, for a second Buffy could have sworn he looked hurt. But when she moved to finish the job he was faster, pulling the stake out with a plop and though Buffy saw the fist flying towards her face, the anticholingerant she'd been dosed with was slowing down her reflexes to the point of uselessness.

Buffy landed awkwardly, a sickening pain shooting home from her elbow. The stars hardly had time to clear from her eyes before Spike was on her, picking her up and shaking her until the stars returned, bringing nausea with them. She'd miscalculated badly, Buffy was beginning to understand. The Initiative hadn't just removed her Slayer powers; they'd left her as weak as a kitten. If her arm wasn't broken it was badly sprained and it didn't matter anyway as she had no strength worth hitting him with. Even this far from Sunnydale the sparse traffic and night-shift staff ignored the sight of a girl being thrown across a gas station and Buffy was partly glad of it. No help likely to be forthcoming but then who could help? The guy had just taken apart an army base with his bare hands; the best Buffy could hope for now was he would kill her before she ever knew what happened to her sister.

But absent minded shaking and some swearing aside, the violence never came. Spike was ranting passionately but the only part Buffy really took in was the unlikely phrase 'rescue you'.

The shaking ceased and as Buffy's brain stopped rattling around in its skull she slowly processed that idea. Spike had come to rescue her. Buffy decided overall it was a good idea, if a little far fetched. And she had to admit that it fit in perfectly with the events of tonight as she'd witnessed them. Spike had indeed come bursting into the place in which she was held captive, removed her from that prison and unchained her; that could, on the surface of it, be taken as rescue-like behaviour. Almost a logical conclusion - if it wasn't Spike, and if going around rescuing Slayers didn't contradict every single thing Buffy knew about him. The same Spike whose response to not being able to kill himself a Slayer was to cheer from the sidelines as others tried. But there was no mistaking the surprise and indignation in his voice - he'd really been intending to help her.

Which would make staking him a bad call.

At least Buffy had the comfort of knowing she was now in the situation she'd originally assumed - faced with a vengeful vampire. Cold comfort as she dangled there, choosing to hang limp rather than struggle futilely. Staring straight at the hole in his precious duster that lined up neatly with the hole over his heart. But now that the sudden - and okay, Buffy could admit it - understandable anger had abated he looked more puzzled than vengeful as he asked if she was afraid of him. Buffy had little choice but to confess she was and hope the staking could be explained away as a misunderstanding, but his next question blew another assumption out of the water.

"So, love, you wanna explain why you're not punching me right about now?"

"I think you broke my arm" Buffy stalled. He was still frowning, confused, like it was _her_ that had just had the personality transplant. She watched him carefully for any sign that it was faked, that he was mocking her, but nothing. It was astounding, what with the patheticness of her assassination attempt and her leaden fall after one meagre punch, but Spike seemed perfectly sincere in his ignorance.

He restored her to her feet carefully enough, straightened her blouse in a manner hard to marry with murderous intent. Took her swelling forearm between his hands in a gesture that had nothing to do with aggression, all the while not knowing she was without her Slayer powers. No wonder he'd looked so surprised when she'd ambushed and staked him, when as far as he knew he'd been sitting there, an open target, for the last twenty minutes.

Made no sense of the big question - why the hell was Spike rescuing her in the first place? It was hardly the first example of weirdness from this ever unpredictable vampire, maybe the chip had been affecting his brain more than they'd realised. Maybe the behavioural conditioning really did work. Buffy had to bite her tongue to keep that comment silent, if anything was likely to send Spike off on a sudden killing spree it would be the suggestion that he really had been neutered.

But killing sprees didn't seem to be on the agenda. And maybe, just maybe, drugging aside, her sister was in safer hands than she'd first thought. Certainly it was hard to imagine _this_ vampire, that puzzled crease still between his brows as he gently examined her injury, torturing her sister for easy entertainment. But then that was always a problem with Spike. He could be so personable when he chose, seem so human, that it was hard to remember he was really an enemy even when he wished them all dead daily. More a Cordelia than a Glory on the scale of Big Bads. Buffy kept that thought to herself too.

"So how'd I hit your face and break your arm, then?"

"I landed badly," answered Buffy with a shrug that sent a sharp pain through her elbow and reminded her just how badly. Though he'd finished looking at her injury Spike still held her hand and Buffy hardly liked to jerk it away. If he really intended to return her sister safely home she didn't want to annoy him any more than she'd already done with the little assassination attempt. He was looking at her with concern, which changed his face entirely from the usual snide self confidence. As she stared back into those bright blue eyes Buffy realised she'd hardly ever seen him neither glaring nor smirking, the concern brought out a whole new man. Well, vampire.

"Wha's going on, Slayer?" he asked, running a thumb softly, absently, over the palm of her hand.

"What do you mean?"

"Well first you try and stake me for, y'know, _rescuing you_. Then I break your arm and you don't even punch me. Seems to me you've got one perfectly good punching arm left here."

Oh hell. If only she'd just sat back and let herself be rescued Spike would never have reason to think she was without her Slayer powers. But despite the staking Buffy was starting to get the impression they still hadn't deviated from the rescue plan, unlikely though it was, and now it was inevitable he find out.

"I _can't_ punch you," she confessed.

"They put a chip in your head, Slayer? 'Cause it just so happens I know how to deal with that. Leastways your sis-"

"No. No chip. Just drugs, I think. I've got no strength."

"No Slayer powers?"

Buffy nodded and the vampire's eyes took on a gleam that she didn't like one bit. He glanced down at his wounded leather coat with sudden comprehension, then back to her, his blue eyes dancing wickedly.

"Well ain't that the abrupt change of fortune?"

Oh how Buffy wished she'd done nothing. That just for once she'd taken a passive role in this little drama, sat back and let things play out, held off on the action until she'd seen where things were going. She could see his evil little vampire brain almost light up with the possibilities.

"Well it's not as good as a chip of your very own, but still enough irony there to appreciate, don't you think, love?"

Buffy merely frowned, torn between wanting to hide her fear and playing the helpless girl card. The vampire was _still_ holding her hand, fingers running up and down her lifeline as if determining exactly where it should come to an abrupt stop.

"Looks like I get a turn at being the annoying bossy one," Spike continued. "And you can do what I tell you for a change?"

He made it a question, held her eye until reluctantly Buffy nodded. Spike leaned forward, that familiar cocky smirk now firmly back in place. "Good. Now get in the bleeding car!"

And because it would be downright humiliating to be carried, give him another demonstration of her pitiful human strength by resisting, Buffy turned to obey.

"And no more staking me!"

Spike followed her back to the car, got in and started the engine without another word. Dawn was still laid comfortably across the back seat, looking naturally asleep, one hand making a pillow the other against her shifting chest.

"Are you still rescuing me?" Buffy asked hesitantly, as he roared out onto the freeway with frightening speed. The vampire took his eyes off the road to glare at her.

"No," he said firmly. "Turns out you don't take too well to being rescued. I don't want to use up all nine lives in the one night. 'M lucky they doped you, aren't I?"

"I wouldn't have been scared if they hadn't," the Slayer burst out, letting slip more than she'd meant to but discovering she didn't care. She still had no idea what had activated the 'rescue Slayer' mode but she could hardly think too much about her pride if he would only go on not killing her sister. Some grovelling might not go amiss. "I'm sorry. I thought you knew I couldn't fight you, that... that you had some big evil scheme. I couldn't let you hurt her."

"And did I not say I wouldn't? You said 'don't kill her' and I said ‘okay,’ I remember distinctly because it was only twenty fucking minutes ago! Sitting in this very car, do you recall? And just to make sure we were perfectly clear on that particular subject I then said 'I won't kill her.' Was I speaking Swahili?"

In any other situation his annoyed sarcasm might have been entertaining, even now it was hardly evil-big-bad scary. Still, pointing out that he'd been known to lie was hardly the diplomatic answer she was looking for.

"You didn't say anything about letting her go," Buffy said eventually. "And there are worse things you can do than kill someone."

"Well I sure as hell ain't turning her. Fourteen forever, can you imagine?"

But the annoyed glare subsided, reluctantly, and Spike turned back to the road before continuing gruffly. "I didn't know I had to say I'd let her go, because I wasn't keeping her captive, but I'll say it now. I don't want anything more to do with your sister until you get her a mute button and some Ritalin. And the sooner I dump her, _alive_ , and this god-awful car back in good old SunnyD the happier I'll be, okay? And if you can think of a reason for me to be lying to you, well then you're batting for the wrong team love because you've obviously got a more devious mind than me."

Buffy nodded, muttered her thanks. "I just don't understand..." She considered the words carefully and Spike raised an eyebrow at her polite tone. "I don't understand how your big rescue involved kidnapping her in the first place?"

"Weren't no kidnapping involved," Spike snorted. "She wouldn't take my chip out if I didn't promise to take her with me, so I took her with me. She never said anything about conscious; I only wish it had occurred to me to drug her earlier. It was for the best, yeah? Would you trust the little brat to stay out of trouble without a little synthetic aid?"

Well there was one point they could definitely agree on. Apparently the little brat couldn't get through an innocent sleepover without dechipping a vampire and blackmailing herself into a hostage situation. Buffy was still fuzzy on those details, almost afraid to ask for an explanation. "I'm going to kill her."

"Bleeding well can't," said the vampire indignantly. "I spent the whole day with her, if anyone gets the privilege of wringing her scrawny little neck it's me."

Buffy wisely stayed silent at that, it felt safest to assume he was joking.

"'Sides," Spike added, "She's pretty ballsy, gotta give her that. I just didn't want to storm an army base with a fourteen year old girl helping me - it'd be embarrassing. And she's a natural with the old mojo, you wanna watch that."

"How did she even know how?"

"I had this book, see, or rather Giles had this book and I, er, stole it. The one you ripped a page out of? Probably wiped a couple grand off its resale value there, by the way."

"And Dawn comes into it...?"

"Needed someone to work the spell, didn't I? Drives a hard bargain, your sis. Not allowed to kill her, not allowed to kill you, spoil all my fun. And what do I get for it?" But even Buffy could see the glare he gave her wasn't exactly furious and he was grinning again in seconds. "Sure as hell wasn't a big sloppy kiss."

"I said I was sorry."

"Well that's alright then. If I'd'a dusted it would have been a great consolation to know you didn't really mean it. I'll have to try that one sometime - oops, broke your sister's neck, but it was by _accident_."

Though by now ninety percent sure he was only talking, Buffy couldn't stop her eyes jumping nervously to her sister. She'd never before found sitting still to be so thoroughly exhausting. Spike's manner might be more sulky than angry but she'd seen how casually he could kill and could not force herself to relax, every muscle still tensed for the disaster that had to be coming.

His explanation did little to calm her fears. If Spike had felt bound by whatever vestige of honour a vampire might have left to keep the deal he'd struck with her sister she'd surely negated that by trying to kill him. And while he'd been right, she could think of no reason for him to lie, neither could she see anything stopping him from changing his mind and bagging his third Slayer.

Spike seemed to catch both her glance and its meaning. "Ain't no fun being helpless, is it Slayer?"

And Buffy had to admit that it was not. She'd never truly been at the mercy of anyone before; to be reliant on the good will of this vampire was hardly her favourite new experience. Even when he seemed inclined to supply that good will, with a healthy side order of sarcasm.

"I do get it," Spike continued. "I bleeding well should. 'S scary when you can't fight, I've been there and I know... I wouldn't hold it against you. But a little faith wouldn't hurt, love."

"Because you're usually just gushing the milk of human kindness." Crap. Buffy really couldn't help herself, the snark won out. It wasn't that she didn't want to be rescued, it just seemed so unlikely she couldn't help wanting to argue against it. And she wasn't used to trying to hold her tongue.

"Bin hanging 'round you too long," the vampire snarked back. "That gentle and caring nature must be rubbing off." He narrowed his eyes speculatively. "Bet you'd look lovely chained up in _my_ bathtub."

That look sent a shiver through her, one not born entirely of fear, and for the first time Buffy realised another possible motive for his actions, cursed herself again for revealing her lack of strength. As his leer took in even more skin than she usually displayed, Buffy had to fight to keep her hands still, itching to cover herself more than vest and shorts generally allowed.

The Slayer had hardly been oblivious to the fact that Spike found her attractive. He'd made no secret of leering at her on many occasions but then it wasn't as if she dressed to be a turn-off and Spike was hardly discriminating in his lasciviousness. She'd seen him peek down Tara's blouse a time or two. Buffy had assumed he was just being male, or maybe trying to make her uncomfortable. Okay, maybe there was a tiny bit of denial in that assumption. Not enough to make it completely implausible. It wasn't like she hadn't noticed his compact and muscular physique herself, didn't mean she'd ever thought further on the subject.

But something about the way Spike was eying her up told her he _had_ thought further, and was doing it again right now. That was unsettling. For the first time it occurred to Buffy to fear for something other than her life. That feeling was fear, really.

"Is that supposed to be funny?"

"It'd be bleeding hilarious, for me. And I've heard your puns, Slayer, frankly I don't think you're in any position to slag off my sense of humour."

"There's nothing wrong with my punning," Buffy said automatically, Spike snorted.

"Love, you set the bar so low it would be banned from a limbo dancing championship as too bloody sadistic. But cheer up, Slayer. Just so happens I don't have a bathtub, and I'm sure those drugs'll wear off soon enough."

"Am I going to live that long?"

"Reckon you might."

The vampire turned his attention back to the road, switched gears for the turn off to Sunnydale. Shot her another sly glance before addressing the windshield. "Truth of it is, Buffy, I ain't wishing you any harm at all. You're safe now."

There was a certain shifty awkwardness in the way he spoke that might have been a tell on a human, but for Buffy it lent veracity to his reassurance.

"Why is that?" she asked quietly.

"Bleeding hell, Slayer. Your sister's brighter'n you. Why do you think?"

Because you're completely _insane_. But she didn't say the words out loud. It was looking less and less like Spike was about to remember how evil he was and act accordingly, and yet still there was a ball of dread in Buffy's stomach that wouldn't be shifted. And though her conscious mind wasn't ready to accept the possibility, somewhere inside Buffy already knew the answer.

Had known since that night in the alley when he'd tried to kiss her, even as she'd gone home and told herself it was a fancy of her imagination.

"Because it's nearly Christmas?" she hazarded flippantly. "You've been infected with yuletide spirit?"

He grinned easily. "Gone midnight, love."

"Of course. And you turn into a pumpkin?"

"Not _nearly_ , but _actually_. As we speak, Saint Nick is hurrying on his rounds, delivering presents for the good boys and girls. Merry Christmas, Slayer."

"But why-"

"Gordon bleeding Bennett! Because I'm in love with you, you moron."

 

  
 ****  


Part Five

"Gone a bit of a funny colour there, pet. You okay?"

Buffy's hand wrapped automatically around the plastic bottle that Spike handed her, but she wasn't aware of doing it.

"You're completely insane!"

The words must have come out loud this time, because the vampire looked hurt. The same wounded surprise he'd adopted when she'd tried to stake him.

"Not that unusual," he grumbled. "Two people, in the work place, feelings develop... Can't say you haven't noticed, Slayer."

"No! No feelings! You're a vampire! You don't have feelings!"

Buffy was finding out Spike had a whole range of facial expressions she'd never known about. Clear blue eyes contradicting her as he glanced sideways. Even in the darkness of the car it was clear the feelings he didn't have were taking a bit of a battering.

"You know damn well that's not true, Buffy."

And she did, but Buffy was still caught in the same loop of comforting denial. It got harder with every time he used her name.

"You _can't_ be in love with me."

"No? You wanna tell me why else I'm rescuing you? Because I'd like to know how I feel."

"To get your chip out."

" _No_. I got the chip out to come and rescue you. Not saying I wouldn't have done it anyway but... Well, that's the point. I could have done it anyway; only way I benefit from rescuing you is seeing you safe. And either way, it's bleeding well out now, isn't it? Do you see me being evil?"

In better spirits Buffy might have pointed out that insofar as it was possible to drive down an empty freeway evilly then he was; revving her mother's gas guzzling SUV with no regard for the laws of the road. But her head was still dealing with the idea of Spike thinking he was in love with her.

"You can't be in love with me," she repeated stubbornly, more because it sounded reassuring than any underlying belief. She'd seen Spike in love before, or whatever passed for it amongst vampires, seen how he handled rejection too. Could hardly have forgotten his declaration of torturing Dru until she loved him again, didn't like to picture what Spike might consider a first date. With a human she might have played along, humoured the crazy person until she was safely home or safely empowered, but with Spike... Well her mouth was probably still gaping open. It was quite shocking enough that he'd just saved her life; the whole business was doing something weird with her thought processes.

"So why don't I want to kill you?"  


********

One day Spike was going to follow a plan that actually came out the way he intended. Today was obviously not going to be that day. Because damn it all if she wasn't going to argue with him. His stubborn little girl would rather talk him into killing her than accept that he didn't want to - could hurt a fellow's feelings.

Spike took a deep and unnecessary breath and fought hard for patience. Though the time when she hadn't possessed his every waking thought seemed like a lifetime ago, the vampire could just about remember his _own_ first reaction had been panicked denial. And he remembered all too well, what with it being literally yesterday, what it felt like to be helpless and he could hardly blame her for her unease, though it pained him.

He'd thought just recently they'd been developing a certain camaraderie, obviously just the product of his oversexed imagination. But even back when he'd wanted her dead, there'd been a standard between them, a worthy opponent code of conduct, and it wasn't just laziness that had stopped him from ever using her little friends against her. It stung, how easily she'd assumed he was holding her sister hostage, and worse, it made the 'throwing herself into his arms' scenario seem a very distant dream indeed.

But the attraction was there, Spike was sure of it. Years before Spike had realised Buffy was the centre of his world, he knew they were connected, knew she'd known too. A pair, equals and opposites, perfectly matched. He'd been her destiny since the moment he'd laid eyes on her, only fool that he'd been, _then_ Spike had imagined he'd be her death. There was an electricity between them that surpassed tiny details like 'vampire' and 'Slayer,' that drew them together and she couldn't be immune. Once she realised that he really was on her side then she'd see his daring rescue in its proper light.

"Doesn't matter," he conceded while the Slayer was still working her jaw silently, marshalling an apparently complicated argument. "Didn't mean to shock you-I thought you _knew_. Really. Bleeding hell, Slayer, _Dawn_ knew. Couple hours and you'll be safe at home, I promise. Don't matter why, does it?"

Buffy nodded warily. Now more composed, it was harder to see what she was thinking.

"So you'll stop trying to kill me?" the vampire joked. Spike was getting fed up with tension that wasn't sexual and the car was full of it, the air thick with Buffy's misgivings. "We're good now?"

She frowned, almost the exact opposite of the response Spike had been going for. She gave the vampire a measuring look he didn't like one bit. "Can I answer that question when I have my Slayer powers back?"

"No! What does that mean? You _are_ going to stake me?"

Her eyes jumped nervously to Dawn in the back seat. A quick look, hardly noticeable, but its meaning was clear.

"For the last fucking time Slayer, I am not going to hurt your sister. Why don't you just answer me straight?"

She bit her lip and looked away. The answer was a long time coming and when it did Spike didn't want to believe it. "I'm going to stake you," Buffy said quietly. "Or you're going to kill me. However it pans out."

Well that was a nasty shock. He'd excused her earlier staking, knew all too well the fear of being helpless and the rash actions that naturally followed, but even Spike's exhaustive self confidence couldn't put a positive spin on that sad statement.

"I'm not going to kill you. I don't want you dead. In case you didn't hear me the last time I'm in l-"

"I heard." Buffy cut him off sharply, as if he was about to mention something unpleasant like cancer. "And I say again, you're insane. I'm the Slayer, Spike, I have a sacred duty to protect people. They're not protected if you're running around slaughtering them, are they?"

"You let me walk before."

"You mean with Acathla? If we hadn't struck that deal the whole world would have been sucked into hell, that counts as protecting people. And I'd let you go again."

Spike snorted and Buffy managed a wry smile. "Theoretically," she added. "You know, in a theoretical situation where I had super powers and got to be in charge. But you stay in Sunnydale and I will stake you."

"So let me get this straight. I save your life, bare my heart to you, and I don't warrant so much as a _chance_ with you?"

She blanched. Spike didn't think he could have drained the blood from her face so quickly if he'd opened an artery, worse even than the gaping horror he'd produced by telling her he loved her. "Please tell me you're not talking about... getting with me? You can't seriously think you have a chance with me."

The aghast expression said it all really. "Not anymore," answered the vampire, trying hard to keep the hurt from his voice but he knew he still sounded sulky. "There's no need to look like that, Slayer. I've been told I'm not such an ugly bloke."

"You kill people! For fun! And now you what? You wanna be my _boyfriend_?"

"For food!" That wasn't going to wash with anyone, least of all the Slayer. "Okay, for fun. But that was _before_. I haven't hurt anyone in more than a year."

"You had a chip in your head!"

It was looking like he'd found a brand new way of killing Slayers, because this one seemed to be having some kind of seizure. Her hands gripped the underneath of her seat, knuckles a whitish blue, every word forced out between gritted teeth and deserving of its own exclamation mark.

"And it changed me, _you_ changed me."

"Did it stop you being a soulless vampire? Because I'm thinking not."

Spike hit the steering wheel in frustration and the car bounced into the inside lane. "So that's it? 'Thanks for rescuing me Spike, now I'm going to run you out of town'? Skipping on the actual thank yous."

"Thank you." Buffy gnawed on her lower lip some more as she looked at him, and Spike remembered why he'd given up on killing her. Every time he worked himself up into a decent rage she only had to turn those doe eyes on him and the mood evaporated. "I'm really very grateful that you rescued me and... drugged my sister."

"That was-"

"I know. Sorry. That bit of your plan was strangely sensible. And I'm so very grateful that you didn't kill her. But that doesn't mean I'm going to let you kill other people. I can't trade Dawn for all the people you're going to kill, just because you've got this crazy idea that... I'm grateful, okay? That's why I'm telling you to leave. You stay here and it's gonna go one of two ways, because news flash, buddy, we're mortal enemies. And if you meant that... y'know... about having feelings..."

"Being in love with you?" Spike interrupted challengingly.

"Yeah. That. Then you're not going to like either of them."

"It doesn't have to go down that way. I could be good."

"No, you couldn't."

"I could try! You can't just stake me, when I've not done anything evil."

"And can you hear the inevitable 'yet' at the end of that sentence?"

"I could only eat bad people."

"And it's because you don't know how wrong that is..."

Spike hit the steering wheel again. Wished he had something more solid to punch. His grand romance had descended into one of their more usual slanging matches and the vampire wasn't quite sure where he'd gone wrong. "It's not fair," he said petulantly, and even in his head he sounded cringingly like Dawn. "I'm _being_ good. I rescued you."

"You beat up a bunch of soldiers. They might not see it the same."

"That's not fair," he repeated. "You'd've done the same, if it was someone you loved."

"Sorry," she muttered again. Girl wouldn't even look at him now. "I'm being... It was a good thing that you did. You were the dashing hero. But now that you have your chip out, you have to leave or we have to kill each other, because-"

"Mortal enemies, yeah. I got it. But I don't _want_ to be mortal enemies."

"Well unless you know a cure for being a vampire, or you're going to turn me into a vam-" Buffy broke off suddenly as she realised what she was saying, eyes widening in horror. Spike waved a dismissive hand.

"Thought about it. Decided evil you might be too much of a bitch even for me."

She relaxed a little, if you could relax back into general panic mode, and Spike sighed. "Not my fault all this happened, y'know. I was going to leave the chip alone, think things through a bit. Maybe take you out some place nice and break it gently."

"It's probably best you didn't," said Buffy dryly, the wrinkle of her nose clearly displaying her opinion of a date with Spike. "I just don't... umm... feel that way about you."

"You could."

"I couldn't."

"What if I didn't eat people at all? Not even the brain-dead fuckwits that really asked for it?"

Her eyes flickered up to his and Spike could see some feeling there, much as she tried to deny it. Surprise, but something else as well. He was surprising himself - hadn’t realised he'd be willing to give up the last of his evil street-cred so easily, but the thought of no more Buffy in his life was unbearable. He'd been not killing people for a while now - how hard could it be?

"Spike..."

"I ain't asking for your hand in marriage, pet. I just want a chance. A crumb."

"You're evil, Spike. And you have the self restraint of a teenager. You can't stay in my town."

"You think I can't do it? I couldn't change for you?"

"No. I think you'll kill the very next person who pisses you off. Apart from me, hopefully."

"You're _wrong_. I love you; I can be the kind of man you want."

"You can't be a man at all. And you're being... stupid. You got your chip out, it's what you wanted since it got put in. You should be happy to leave. Go and be the scourge of Europe or whatever. You're free. Unleashed."

"But I'm not! You're all I bloody think about, Slayer. Got a heavier leash on me than technology could ever manage and I can't slip it, not ever. Never would take me seriously. Tell me I don't know what love is. _Me._ I stayed with Drusilla a bleeding _century_ and you think I'm going to forget about you as soon as I can bite people again? You can't just write me off like that. I'm not only a vampire, same as you're not just a bitch."

Not one good at pretending a calm he didn't feel, Spike was shouting as he worked up the righteous indignation and the Slayer was visibly biting her tongue, darting nervous glances to her sister in the back. It irked Spike and sickened him too.

"And would you stop doing that? How is it I say 'I love you' and you hear 'I wanna kill your sister?' I'd stop killing people for you - do you understand what that means to me?"

She took a long second to think about it. Spike could see her reluctance to speak, but despite the hesitation her voice was certain. "You couldn't do it."

"Not if you won't even give me a chance!"

"I let you stay, I find you feeding, then I stake you. That's what would happen. And I don't really want to stake you anymore, what with the rescuing. But I want to be stumbling over the corpses you leave behind even less, so I'd get in first."

Though not insensible to the compliment, Spike was by now too angry and disappointed to care. "Well screw you, bitch!"

He slewed the car to a stop across the fortunately deserted road. "I'm gonna go some place that's not your town and I'm gonna _not_ eat people and I'll bloody well show you!"

********

Buffy flinched as the door slammed behind the angry vampire - felt the need for a very deep breath indeed. And maybe some kind of wiring for her jaw.

Spike was a soulless vampire and Buffy couldn't believe he meant the word love in the way a human would, but the fact that he'd said it at all was enough to leave anyone's mouth hanging stupidly open. And a vampire storming off to not eat people was so ridiculous it could only be laughed at, but Buffy was afraid if she started laughing now then hysteria would soon take over.

Either Willow had been getting crazy with the spellcasting again, she'd somehow slipped into some wacky alternate word, or life had just got very disturbing indeed. Truly the most disturbing thing was that Buffy kinda felt sorry for him. Spike was hard to cast as an innocent victim of circumstance, but despite the limitations of his planning abilities and a laissez-faire attitude to details he'd certainly saved the day. When he'd complained about the unfairness Buffy was inclined to agree with him, but she'd known for a long time life wasn't fair to anyone, and generally the better you were, the more of a bitch life could be. When fate slapped her in the face she'd learnt to deal with it and move on, and Spike would have to learn to do the same. The Buffy that could chance her heart on a mysterious vampire had long since died and grown up.

The cars passing were few and far between, luckily as Spike had abandoned the car in the outside lane, and Buffy debated the wisdom of flagging one down. It was a huge step down to need to be wary of regular human psychopaths, but there it was, and you read such dreadful things about hitchhikers. But then, without a phone, Buffy was left with few options, and her car was sure to attract attention sooner or later. Better odds on picking out a non-psychopathic passer-by than hoping the new Initiative wouldn't manage to track her down again. Driving was out, her last attempt behind the wheel disastrous, and so long ago she could barely remember which pedal was which. She was still debating when the passenger door opened.

"You can't drive, can you?"

"Not so much."

"Right then." Not quite looking at her, Spike slid back into the driver's seat and closed the door with considerably less aggression than he had from the outside. He started the engine and put his foot down. "I'll drive you home. _Then_ I'll bloody well show you."

 ****

The End

Do you all hate me now? I promise there's a happier ending coming up.  


 ****

EPILOGUE

Buffy twirled her stake in a light-hearted fashion as she exited the last empty cemetery of her patrol tonight, turning onto Revello Drive and the last straight before home. A year ago it would have been a common enough sight, but this year's Buffy was only just rediscovering the whole light-hearted thing. It had been a funny old year all round, the Slayer was glad it was coming to an end, but more importantly she was looking forward to what came next. A new year and a fresh start, new resolutions and hopes that she sorely needed.

Since Willow had brought her back from the dead, sometimes the thought of a new _day_ was more than Buffy could bear. The last straw had been Sweet. If not for her obligation to Dawn and the teen's plaintive musical plea, Buffy would have danced herself to death that night. But darkest hours and all that, dawn had brought a new Buffy not weighed down by the necessity of being nice to the friends she resented, the secret that had paralyzed her.

Of course the new dawn had also brought a departing watcher. And her new awareness of the life still going on around her opened Buffy's eyes to a whole new world of problems. Her best friend, the powerful, recently jilted and occasionally scary witch. Her sister, the juvenile delinquent. Her fractured and distant support group. But still, this week, they weren't problems that made Buffy want to give up and die. The Hellmouth at least had been considerate of her depression; hellions and evil music hall aside, the biggest threat this year had been a diamond stealing frost monster and three little boys, and Buffy was starting to suspect those two little bads were one and the same.

And it was nearly Christmas. Season of good cheer. When Dawn returned home - from a checked, ratified and adult supervised evening shopping trip - maybe they could bond over Christmas lights. It would be their first Christmas truly alone and Buffy was determined it would be cheerful. Even on a budget of zero dollars. First thing in the new year, Buffy planned to redouble her efforts at job hunting. In the meantime, they'd make a good Christmas from whatever was in the house.

Patrol had been pretty much dead, but as Buffy neared her own house she could sense a vampire. A more powerful feeling than the fledglings she'd been dealing with lately, the tingle familiar and yet not. It only got stronger as she approached the front porch, until she was all but certain the vampire was inside. As there was no living person home, that meant it had to be a vampire that had been invited in before. She opened the front door carefully, half expecting Angel but not prepared to take chances. The lights were on, TV too, and from the living room doorway Buffy could see the top of a blond head, one black clad leg hanging comfortably over the edge of the armchair.

"Spike."

The vampire himself turned his head to look at her as she entered the room, smiled morosely and turned back to the infomercials.

"What are you doing in my house?"

"That whole not-killing-people thing didn't work out so well for me," he said to the remote, flicking through channels as he spoke. "You shouldn't leave your doors open, by the way, Slayer."

"It saves on locks." Even from her side-on view, the vampire looked rough as hell, gaunt in face and older, though it was impossible. Buffy had barely thought of the brash, blond vampire in the year since she'd last seen him but she couldn't remember his cheekbones being quite that sharp, or so many lines around his eyes.

It had been remarkably easy to put Spike out of her mind for the last year. Sure, he'd been the gossip for a couple of weeks. Giles had wanted to know every detail, presumably to preserve such peculiar behaviour for posterity in his watcher's journal, Willow ooohed and Xander gaped when she recounted her tale but it soon blew over. After a couple of weeks had passed and it became obvious Spike wasn't going to ride straight back into town, Buffy chose to forget about something so hard to process. Dawn had remembered a little longer, furious with the vampire for keeping her out of the action, even more so for leaving town while she was still unconscious, but absolutely livid with her sister for driving him away. But even Dawn had forgotten her grudge, and her crush, when she discovered her true origins. And if the teen had had fantasies during the time of her capture, those long minutes on the top of that tower, of a certain blond hero bursting in to save the day, she'd never shared them with her older sister. Between her mom dying, the Initiative's second smackdown and the threat of Glory, then later her own death and resurrection, Buffy certainly hadn't thought of him at all.

She decided now that things could just stay that way.

"You can't be here, Spike."

"Well I am, aren't I?" The remote settled on another infomercial. "You wanna fight, Slayer?"

"Not really. I want you to leave."

"Did you not hear me? Couldn't stop killing people."

"I never seriously imagined you would," said the Slayer dryly. "But it's nice that you tried. So how about you move right back out of town before I stake you?"

"I did try," he continued, as if she'd never spoken. "But I'd get drunk, or pissed off, or hungry... Or I'd just forget about stopping. Snapping their necks afterwards? That gets to be a reflex after a century or so."

"I really don't need to hear the details. Just go."

"No." For only the second time he turned his eyes to hers, gave her another humourless smile. "I want to fight."

Buffy sighed. Of course she was surprised to find Spike making himself at home in her empty house, but at the same time she wasn't. If she _had_ thought about Spike at all in the last year, she would have assumed he'd be turning up again, because - crazy vampire in love with her? That would never get old for the higher powers she had been created to amuse. Besides, it was what Spike did: waltz back into town whenever he was least expected, admittedly usually with more noise and, well, flair.

"Have it your way. Could we at least take it outside?"

Spike turned off the TV, tossing the remote on to the sofa in silent acquiescence. Buffy led the way to the back garden and he followed. She never once cast an eye back to the vampire at her exposed rear and he made no move to start the fight early.

The battle itself was short and far from thrilling; from the first half-hearted exchange of blows Buffy found herself feeling oddly disappointed. Standing in the moonlight, minus the ubiquitous duster, the vampire looked almost emaciated and there was no weight behind any of his punches. No ingenuity behind his fighting, no joy in it, no banter. It was hard to remember the fear he'd inspired when he'd first promised to kill her. Or the thrill he'd inspired in later confrontations, that unique buzz of facing a worthy opponent, in a fight to the death so elegant that death itself felt impossible.

Buffy too was going through the motions. She wouldn't go as far as to admit she had a soft spot for Spike, but it was much harder to hold on to the hate when vampires insisted on doing such bizarre things as trying to stop killing people for her. And she felt she owed him a heavy debt. He'd saved her life and said he loved her, and shallow and carnal and short lived though she'd taken those feelings to be, his actions surely earned him something. Because this effortless trouncing felt more like execution than victory, even though he'd undeniably started the fight. And as Buffy threw him to the ground, landing with her knee in his chest, she was half waiting for a punchline. Maybe 'I've kidnapped your friends, so dust me and they'll all die, bwah-ha-ha-ha.'

But this new and skinny Spike didn't even manage a quip about her straddling him as she pushed the tip of the stake against his chest. He made no move to escape, closed his eyes, looking for all the world as if he was ready for the end. If this was an evil plan it was a cunning one indeed.

"Third time lucky, eh Slayer?"

"What's that?"

He opened one eye. "Third time you'll be staking me. Reckon it'll stick this time." His eye closed again, he seemed braced for the stake. Nearly a minute passed with neither moving. Spike opened his eyes again.

"C'mon Slayer, get it over with."

"I don't want to," Buffy confessed. "I mean... it's too easy. You're obviously not at the top of your game and I... well I owe you a favour. So how about we go back to the plan where you stay out of Sunnydale?"

"Can't. I've tried. Can't leave you alone, Slayer, I'll always be coming after you. Best you end it now."

God, she knew he was right. She should have staked him every chance she'd been given and there'd been plenty of them. It was wrong to let him kill others because he'd spared her sister but it was near impossible to drive the stake home with those blue eyes looking at her so piteously. Out of sight could be out of mind, she only had to get him out of sight.

"Try harder." Buffy pulled her hand back and his eyes widened.

"No! You have to! I need... I'll come after your friends. I'll kill your sister."

Buffy watched, unmoving, unable to take the threat seriously as he lay on her front lawn, virtually begging to be staked. Fine, maybe it was a soft spot. He'd said he loved her, for God's sake. That's the kind of behaviour designed for inducing soft spots.

"Right now, I think my sister could take you."

"Do you know how many people I killed since I promised to stop? Twenty-seven!"

"Twenty-seven? In a whole year?"

Okay, so it was an inappropriate reaction. But twenty-seven didn't sound like an awful lot. He'd been gone a year, give or take a Christmas eve, 365 days, that was... Well more mental arithmetic that Buffy needed right now, but definitely less than one a week. And he'd counted them. He really had tried, which led to the astonishing ergo, he really did love her. A scary conclusion that tipped the known world on its head, but not one that really helped with the current problem.

"Killed them 'cause I couldn't stop," Spike continued quietly. "Didn't want to stop, not really. Just knew I couldn't have you till I did, just wanted to prove myself. All dead because of me. _Thousands_ dead because of me. You think some of them weren't little girls like your sister? That I didn't make them scream before I killed them?"

Tears were streaming freely down his face now. More than a little shocked, Buffy stood. Reaching a swift decision she pulled the vampire to his feet too.

"I can't stop, Buffy. I thought I could fix it. Even now, can't stop thinking about feeding, slipping my fangs into soft flesh..."

"Well _that's_ because you aren't eating properly," said Buffy practically. "Like thinking about chocolate cake while you're on a diet. Get back in the house."

"No. You have to do it, I can't... Please, Buffy."

Firmly, inexorably, Buffy pushed him towards the back door. She had less than no idea of what to do with a crying vampire - that was way outside her remit and so unnatural she could hardly credit what she was seeing. Buffy knew that look far too intimately, his despair chillingly reminiscent of the expression that had stared back at Buffy from her own bathroom mirror until recently. She knew all too well what it was like to want death, oblivion, it wasn't a state she could ever have imagined Spike would end up in. No creature that lived entirely in the moment should be able to feel despair; and Spike was nothing without that overwhelming lust for life. With a depressingly easy detachment, she decided to focus on the practicalities and pulled out her cell phone.

"Willy? You remember how I haven't broken your nose for months now? Don't you think you owe me a favour?"

Spike took one hesitant step after another as Buffy wrangled a blood delivery, all the while herding him slowly into the house. He jammed in the doorway, bony fingers clinging on to the door frame as Buffy pushed impatiently from behind.

"You have to do it," he said quietly, head bowed. "I'm dangerous."

It was almost laughable. Tiny without the duster and strut, his new waif look making Buffy loom large in comparison. And though she couldn't now see his face, she knew it was hopeless and tear streaked. Buffy could barely look at him, never mind stake him, and wasn't ready to deal with the why. Firmly she peeled his hands from the doorframe, pulling him around to face her and propelling him backwards into her sitting room, onto the sofa.

"Why don't you tell me what happened to you?"

Effectively trapped, the vampire stared at his hands as Buffy hovered over him. He was silent so long she began to wonder if he'd heard the question. She couldn't imagine any answer for herself, he'd obviously driven himself half out of his head with starvation but that was more of another question than a conclusion. Spike had had no problems acquiring or drinking animal blood while he was chipped, how he'd managed to get in this state was as much a mystery as his tears.

"I got it back," he muttered eventually.

"Got what back? The chip? You put the _chip_ back?"

It was the only sense Buffy could make of his words, but she was fairly sure his chip still sat at the bottom of Dawn's jewellery box. Again, Spike didn't seem to be listening.

"I couldn't stop, you see. I did try. I thought... I thought if I could only stop killing people I could have you. I was such a fucking idiot. I thought I could be good enough. If I stopped, I could wash away a century of killing people and liking it. Thought I could get the girl."

Once the words started, they carried on leaking out in disjointed sentences and a flat monotone nothing like the vampire she knew. And though Buffy was itching to force a straight answer from him, she didn't dare interrupt lest the words dried up altogether.

"Couldn't even do that. All those dead people. Not that it mattered to me. Mattered to them that I killed, I suppose, but I never thought about them. It was only for you, and you knew better all along. But I couldn't come back, and I couldn't stay away... I thought I could fix it. I was such a moron. Why won't you dust me, Buffy?"

"Because you're taking all the fun out of it?" Buffy offered flippantly. But this time she didn't even earn the watery smile for her trouble, Spike carried right on staring at his hands. Deciding he wasn't about to run, Buffy flopped onto the sofa beside him. "And it's nearly Christmas," she added in a kinder tone. "You didn't kill me at Christmas. Season of goodwill and all that."

"No goodwill for vampires. No goodwill _in_ vampires. Just a void."

Truly unnerved by such uncharacteristic bleakness, those empty eyes, Buffy took one of his hands. "Why don't you just tell me what happened?"

"I told you. I thought... if I put it back, I wouldn't want to kill them anymore. Like it was just a _switch_. I'd heard about this demon in Africa, powerful bugger, could do almost anything. I thought I could be good, like you, and then you'd want me. I didn't understand. And now I do and it's too late, no get out clause with mine you see, it's stuck in here eating me from the inside out. Can't put the spark out.

"And I think I got a faulty one, Slayer, 'cause still you're all I bloody think about. Even as they follow me round and tell me all the things I can never take back. Even now I know what I am. I can't stay away from you."

"Oh my God!"

Though her logical mind was telling her it couldn't be true, Buffy had put the pieces together. The tears and remorse and fractured narrative all adding up to one big impossibility. So impossible that it made Spike saving her life on a whim seem an everyday occurrence.

"You got your soul back."

The doorbell rang just then and, mind reeling, Buffy answered it. Automatically took a box of blood bags from a bemused and slightly out of breath bar-tender, shut the door on Willy as he made an optimistic hint about payment. Hardly aware of what she was doing, Buffy took the box into the kitchen, took out a bag and heated it up. She started when she turned, finding that Spike had followed her into the kitchen.

"I should go, Slayer."

But Buffy forestalled his exit by handing him a steaming mug. The vampire had pulled himself together a little, wiped the tears away at least. Set his face to casual as if he hadn't just been bawling in front of her. "I shouldn't have come here, 's just... a weakness."

Buffy desperately wanted to hit pause. And maybe rewind. Hear his rambling, oblique explanation again until it made a kind of sense that wasn't impossible. But the world had rarely been kind in stopping and allowing her to catch up. "Go where?" she asked eventually.

Spike shrugged, cuddling the warm mug close to his chest as if to ward off questions. "Dunno. Hadn't thought much past you staking me." He grinned slightly and there was real amusement behind the pain. "Still foiling all my best plans, eh Slayer?"

"Your plans suck." Another automatic response, mere words to fend off serious thinking. Even a week ago Buffy might have let him go, simply unable to deal with anything else confusing in her over dramatic life, but in that time the Slayer had made a lot of resolutions. And one of them, the big one, was not playing ostrich with all the things she didn't want to think about. "I'm right though, aren't I? You got your soul back?"

Spike nodded. Back to not looking at her.

"That's really.... very... My God, is that even possible?"

Another shrug. "Turns out. I thought... fuck, I don't know what I was thinking. That it was just an on/off switch. I'd have a soul so I wouldn't want to kill people anymore and I could come back and... you'd fall in love with me. I had no idea... I didn't have one - how was I supposed to understand? I'm such an idiot."

"You needed a soul to work that out?"

But Spike's attention was now firmly on the mug in his hands. The smell of blood rising up was starting to have a visible affect on the vampire, eyes glinting gold as his game face struggled to emerge. Giving in, he downed the blood and handed her back the empty mug.

"I should go," he repeated.

"Wait."

Though she couldn't have said exactly why, Buffy felt a little panicked at the idea of Spike disappearing back into the night. Maybe it was the worry he'd find a more effective ending for himself, maybe just that feeling of events moving too fast for her to keep up with.

"Have some more blood. Give me a little time to process here. That's a huge big surprise to drop on someone and just walk off."

"'M sorry. Never meant to drop anything on you, just thought... you could end it for me. I didn't mean to make myself your problem, love."

"Well it kinda seems to me you are. My problem, that is."

Her problem, her impossibility, standing right there in her kitchen. Twisting his hands together and avoiding her eye, still looking like he wanted to bolt. The very idea that a vampire could up and decide to get a soul was enough to knock the socks off any Slayer. Mortal enemies deciding they didn't want to be evil? That wasn't covered in any watcher's diary Giles had ever told her about. The fact that he'd done it _for her_ was almost too much to take in.

Buffy remembered her shock last Christmas when Spike had declared himself in love with her. She hadn't hardly had time for 'might-have-beens' in the succeeding year, but with hindsight Buffy thought maybe it shouldn't have been such a surprise. She knew the vampire well enough to know he wasn't one for half measures. Presumably for Spike, it was a small step from their curious and antagonistic acquaintance to head over heels. There'd been signs that she had dismissed at the time as oddities, or attempts to curry her favour.

And after he'd safely gone, Buffy regretted, slightly, that she'd not been kinder. But she didn't regret sending him away - and if Spike's feelings had factored into her decision at all she would have assumed it was best for him too. He'd gotten over Dru quickly enough, relatively speaking, and compared to a century in a relationship his crush on her was just a moment in time. Far better he was out in the world falling for another vampire than fixating on the girl who would stake him. And if he resented her rejection enough to come back and kill her... Well, Buffy dealt with a lot of vampires trying to kill her, it was something of a speciality.

She'd told herself then she would have no problem staking him if that turned out to be the case. Told herself now, with only a touch of dishonesty, that she would have staked him ten minutes ago but for a lingering obligation and the sense that he was no real threat. Buffy didn't dig too deep and question the sense of relief that she didn't have to, or how easily she accepted his intimation as fact. While what he claimed was clearly impossible, it was also plainly true; Spike was no actor and in no way the vampire that left Sunnydale.

Close up under the bright kitchen lights, Buffy could see just how different he looked. Superficially many things were the same - hair freshly bleached and slicked back, the usual uniform of black - but the attitude that wore the look was entirely gone. The sunken cheeks and ashen skin colour added ten years to his face; the lack of expression added a different kind of age. Buffy realised with a pang she missed the knowing smirks and mobile eyebrows. About this time he should be looking her straight in the eye, puffing his chest out and mocking her inability to kill him. Or, going by last year’s revelations, hitting on her. Either alternative could be dealt with a punch and either better than this current awkwardness.

She'd told him to wait and so he stood there waiting. And there they'd both stand till Dawn returned if she couldn't think of something to say.

"I died," she blurted out suddenly. It was the closest she could come to small-talk under pressure and Spike looked startled. "I got better," she added awkwardly.

"You look good," he replied eventually. "I mean... well. You look well. Not dead."

"There's a demon living in your crypt," she tried again. "I would have slayed him, but... Well he gave Dawn a kitten, and he said he doesn't eat people."

"You met Clem?"

"Clem, that's it. Does he eat people?"

The vampire shook his head with a slight smile. "Not unless they're grinding people up and putting them in Cheetos nowadays."

"He seemed really sociable. I don't think he'd mind if you wanted to move back in."

"Slayer..."

"You still have all that vampire strength, right? You could stay. I mean, you could help. It's not like you have anywhere else to be."

It was crassly put and Buffy clamped her mouth firmly shut again before she made it any worse, but for the first time the vampire looked hopeful. It was a heartbreaking expression. "You got a big bad brewing, love? Need some muscle?"

"Umm... So far? Just evil nerds. But you never know," she added hastily. "And Dawn and I were going to put up the Christmas decorations tonight. You could help. I'm not tall enough to reach the ceiling, you know."

Spike chuckled, and the sound seemed to surprise him into a real laugh. "You birds are all the same. Never heard of a bleeding footstool. You don't need me for nothing."

"We do!" Buffy protested. "The top of the tree is really awkward."

He gave her a look, more reminiscent of the vampire she remembered than anything else Buffy had seen tonight. "Tell me, love, your sister taller'n me yet?"

Buffy smiled ruefully. "Maybe. I've been investing in higher heels, put it that way."

He smiled back, soft and sad, a world away from the old smirk.

"We don't need you," admitted Buffy, as the silence began to stretch. "Not right now. But you could stay anyway. And maybe you need... something. Something to do. There's always plenty of evil to fight in Sunnydale."

He met her eye, wavered. Buffy struggled to find something to add to tip the balance. Couldn't _ask_ him to stay because his earlier words were still echoing around her head. _'Cause still you're all I bloody think about._ A scary thing to hear from a virtual stranger. Scary to think he knew so much of her when she'd only just met him, that he loved her already. Buffy didn't want to give him that kind of hope when she didn't know who he was now. But he'd done an incredible thing for her and she couldn't leave him to his own misery.

"Dawn would be pleased to see you. She... missed you. And she'll be _so_ annoyed if she finds out you came to visit and didn't see her. There'd probably be curses."

Spike opened his mouth, Buffy cut off any further argument. "There's bound to be another apocalypse soon. Stay."

"I... thank you, Buffy. I'd like that."


End file.
